


A Different Kind of Romance

by HiddenDirector



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: All Canon Sexualities, Brace for Adorable Character Interaction, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Language, Multi, a WHOLE lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenDirector/pseuds/HiddenDirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight stories of eight Inquisitors and their relationships with their lovers.  Romance, fluff, sexual discussions, and shenanigans ahoy!</p><p>Chapter 1 - Fun and Games, Devlin Adaar/Sera<br/>Chapter 2 - Raising Spirit, Solas/Sulahn Lavellan<br/>Chapter 3 - You Say Jump, Iron Bull/Elodrin Lavellan</p><p>There will be eight chapters, one for each canon romantic path you can take.  Two are slash, one femslash, and the rest are het.  I will update the pairing, character, and tag lists as I post chapters.  Each chapter has their own warning and description inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Devlin/Sera - Fun and Games

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Devlin Adaar/Sera  
> Inquisitor: Female Qunari Rogue  
> Warnings: Light discussions of a sexual nature, mild language, femslash  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any persons, places, or things associated. They all belong to Bioware. Please don't sue me.

Sera and Devlin never played the same game twice. They sat on the roof of the tavern, drinking and talking and laughing until one of them decided making out where half of Skyhold could see them was a good idea. Until then, though, they made up a new game to play every time.

Sometimes it was a physical challenge. Sera loved games that let her show off her aiming skills, throwing things in buckets that they scattered on the ground or shooting targets on nearby walls. Devlin liked showing off her Qunari strength and agility. Races across the roofs and walls were her favorites. But other times they liked games that didn’t involve doing such things. Today they decided on a word game.

“Okay, so ‘A’ to ‘Z,’ we have to think of words.”

“What kind of words?” Sera asked, taking a bite out of one of the muffins Devlin brought up with her. Muffins were their new thing that week. They changed their thing every few days, but the agreement was that it had to be a thing for just the two of them. The previous thing was sitting on a blanket of pure Orlesian silk while on the roof. Devlin liked it because she loved soft things. Sera just liked the faces Josephine and Vivienne made every time they brought it in covered in dirt and leaves. They were pretty sure the two women had it burned when they moved onto muffins.

“Just… words. Any words, as long as they’re real words. One of us starts with ‘A,’ then the other does ‘B’ and it goes back and forth.”

“So, any words as long as it’s the next letter up. Okay, then I’ll start. ‘A.’ Arrows.”

“Like I didn’t see that coming,” the Qunari rogue rolled her eyes. “Okay, ‘B.’ Uh… oh, Bull.”

“’C.’ Coryphespit.”

“Corypheus. It shouldn’t count if you didn’t say it right.”

“Fine, hardass,” Sera stuck her tongue out and thought. “Cookies.”

“’D.’ Dinglehopper.”

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to use my insulting nicknames for our worst enemies, you’re not allowed to use your stupid made-up pet name for the wrong thing.”

“Alright, alright,” Devlin laughed. “Fair enough. Okay, Dorian.”

“Are you just gonna use everyone’s names?”

“If I think of them when I get to the letters. Come on, your turn. ‘E’.”

“’E…’ ‘E…’ uh… oh! Everite!”

“Ooh, good one. For ‘F’ I’m going to say… FIRE!”

Below them a group of trainees had lined up targets along the barrack walls and were practicing their archery. At the, what seemed to them, loud, sudden order from their Inquisitor they all did as they were told, whether they were ready or not. Several at least hit the targets. A couple even got a bullseye. A few hit the wall and their arrows uselessly broke and fell to the ground.

One unlucky recruit at the end was startled by the sudden outcry and his arrow arched far to the left. Cassandra, who had been practicing at her training dummy, threw herself out of the way. The arrow embedded itself into the dummy’s nethers.

“Nice shot!” Sera yelled down to the now panicked-looking recruit. He looked stuck somewhere between apologizing and bolting.

The seeker only glared at him for a moment before turning her deadly gaze up to the pair on the roof.

“My bad!” Devlin smiled sheepishly, waving down at her. When Cassandra only continued to silently glare she picked up a baked good and tossed it. “Muffin for a peace offering?”

Cassandra caught it with one hand and no effort, marching off as she tore a bite out of it. The trainee archers parted quickly as she stormed by. The one who almost killed her looked ready to piss himself. Probably already did, honestly.

“I’m… going to be paying for that later, aren’t I?” Devlin cringed.

“Oh, yeah. But first, my turn. ‘G.’ Glaaaaaaare…” Sera leaned in towards Devlin, mimicking the look Cassandra had given her.

The rogue snickered, putting a finger on her lover’s forehead and pushing her away. “Okay, okay. ‘H.’ Uhhhh…. Hmm… this is a hard one. Oh, that’s it, Harding.”

“There are so many dirty jokes I want to make right now that I can’t decide which one to use.”

“Then how about you just think of an ‘I’ word, you pervert?”

“You’re a fine one to talk. Alright, ‘I.’ Uh… shit. I only wanna use good words. Eluvian.”

“That starts with an ‘E’.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Devlin leaned back and crossed her legs, bathing in the sunlight. As cold as Skyhold’s mountainous location was, it was also a haven of sunshine during most days. “E-L-U-V-I-A-N. You got it wrong so I get to steal the letter.”

“What?” Sera knitted her brows together, trying to remember what they agreed to at the start of the game. “When did that become a rule?”

“Just now. I didn’t think we’d actually spell one wrong, so I didn’t think of what to do in case it happened when we started.”

“You can’t just make up rules!”

“You do it all the time when we’re playing shooting games. And you’re already better at those than me, so how fair do you think that is?”

“Ugh, fine. You get to do ‘I’.”

“ _Indignant_.”

“Alright then, ‘J’ is for Jenny. Which is what I’m gonna start getting all up on you if you don’t stop being a smartass with me.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Devlin held her hands up in surrender. “’K’ for Kiss and make up?”

“Psh,” Sera made an amused yet exasperated sound. “Fine.” She got on her knees and leaned up, pulling the Qunari woman into a kiss. Their mouths crushed against each other in the carnal manner they usually did, passionately trying to drink in each other’s beings. Devlin wound an arm around the elf’s tiny waist, pulling her in so they were all but entwined. Her other hand gave Sera’s petite rear a squeeze. The archer broke the kiss, grinning. “’L’ is for Lips. Specifically yours. I really like yours.”

Devlin smirked. “I think your lips are pretty spectacular, too.” She gave the elven woman a yank, pulling her up to straddle the Qunari’s lap. They continued to kiss and grope, hands exploring each other as their tongues intertwined. Sera was getting hot and bothered by the affair, which was why she was annoyed when Devlin suddenly broke the kiss, pushing a baked treat between their faces. “’M.’ Muffin.”

Sera made an indignant sound, shoving back onto the roof. “Not fair.”

“That’s two words.”

The elf responded by raspberrying her.

“Hey, we can’t have fun time until we finish our game. We always play by that rule. Otherwise we’d never finish anything. Anyway, it’s my turn. ‘O.’ Ominous.”

“Hmph. ‘P’ is for… Pissballs.”

“Wow, it took longer for you to come out with a curse than I thought you would.”

“I wasn’t mad at you before,” Sera hissed. “Your turn.”

“’Q.’ ‘Q,’ ‘Q,’ ‘Q’…” Devlin looked around for inspiration.

Sera raised an eyebrow, looking the rogue up and down. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Joking, joking! Just trying to lighten you back up,” Devlin said, giving a lop-sided grin. “Qunari.”

“’R.’ Uh… Rifts.”

“’S’. Ssssssss…” Devlin leaned over and pecked Sera on the cheek. “Smooch.”

“Ugh, no trying to charm me now. ‘T…’ Tevinter.”

“’U.’ Uhhh…”

“Okay, ‘V’.”

“That wasn’t my word! It wasn’t even a word, it was a vague sound!” Devlin exclaimed.

“Too bad, I’m counting it. ‘V’ is for… Varric.”

“Now who’s resorting to names?”

“No one said we can’t do the same kind of lame-ass cheating.”

“Alright, ‘W.’ Winter Palace.”

“Okay. Oh, shit. I got ‘X’!” Sera groaned, rubbing her temples. “’X…’ ‘X’…”

“Come on, give it a shot,” Devlin said.

“Um… oh, Exploding Arrow!”

“Nope, that starts with ‘E’.”

“You try and think of an ‘X’ word, smartass!”

“Xenial.”

“You made that up.”

“Nope. It means to be hospitable to a guest.”

“Says who?”

“Says those stuck-up nobles you hate so much.”

“Ugh, fine,” Sera huffed. “‘Y.’ Yuck.”

“And that leave me ‘Z.’ Hmm… shoot.”

“Not a ‘Z’ word.”

“That wasn’t my answer. _Now_ who’s being a smartass? I can’t think of anything, anyway. Go for it.”

“Zealous,” Sera said smugly. “As in what you were about your smarts.”

“Hardy-har. I still won. You got two wrong, and I only got one.”

“What’s the prize, then? Cause I hope you choke on it.”

“You better hope I don’t, because it’s part of you.”

There was a pause in which they stared at each other before Sera jumped up, heading for her window quickly. “Well then, hurry and collect! I think we both deserve this prize!”

“Right behind you, sweet stuff!” Devlin chased after her, grinning. It was going to be another fun night of games, but these were the kind more fun in private.


	2. Solas/Sulahn - Raising Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sulahn does the responsible thing and plays the bad-guy for a necessity regarding their resident former Spirit of Compassion. Solas doesn't agree with her treatment of him, but decides to help anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Solas/Sulahn Lavellan  
> Inquisitor: Female Elven Archer  
> Warnings: Mild sexual discussion

Varric Tethras had seen everything. He fought mages, Darkspawn, dragons, Templars, _Red_ Templars, and helped close a hole in the sky. He was among those bracing themselves for Corypheus’s next move. And yet he was still caught off guard when he sat at his table in the main hall and his foot bumped something soft.

Looking under he found owlish eyes staring back, hands nervously wringing a tattered hat brim.

“…Kid, what’re you doing under my table?”

Cole’s already quiet voice was so low Varric had to lean under to hear his hoarse whisper. “I can’t make her forget me or not see me, so I have to hide…”

“What are you talking about?” the dwarf sighed. He watched Cole suddenly tense and seal his lips shut, holding the wide brim of his hat over his face as if it made him invisible again. Varric glanced behind him, head still under the table to see a pair of slender, silver-clothed legs.

“Talking to the rats, Varric?” came the cheerful voice of the Inquisitor.

The marksman pulled out, grinning at Sulahn’s knowing smile. “Just one timid little mouse. He’s hiding from a particularly persistent cat.”

“Mm-hm…” the Dalish archer made a few dramatic strides along the table before taking a breath and ducking her head under. “MEOW!” she shrieked.

The sound was returned with a scream, Cole scrambling out the other side of the table. He struggled to get his footing for a moment before dashing into the next room.

“You shouldn’t tease the Kid like that, Susie. Just get it over with.”

“I will, but I’m a hunter. Stalking my prey is half the fun.” The sweet, cheerful tone she said it in sent shivers down the writer’s spine. He made a mental note of all the descriptors he could think of for that tone and the feelings of horror and dread it brought him for later use. “Bye, Varric!” she sang, practically skipping around his chair to the door.

Varric sighed and shook his head, getting to work.

 

()()()

 

“So~las…”

“Sulahn, I am _trying_ to work.”

“I know you’re hiding him from me.”

“I am doing no such thing. Cole came panicking through here and out the other door as if chased by Corypheus himself. He’s probably hiding under Cullen’s desk.”

“I know when you’re lying, Sunshine.”

Solas determinedly ignored the elven woman draped over his back. Her dark brown curls were in his vision as her chin rested on his shoulder. If he glanced to his right he could see the shockingly bright green markings adorning her face and lips. But no, the best thing to do was pretend she wasn’t there.

“Sun~shine,” her sing-song rang in his ear with a puff of pleasant breath. He continually was amazed that a girl had so little singing talent that she could wilt the plants in the Skyhold garden by humming, yet she could use sing-song so easily when talking. “I’ll tell you what. You tell me where you’re hiding Cole, and I’ll…”

Sulahn lowered her voice, knowing curious ears listened on the spiraled library above. Dorian especially she knew would have ears perked for speak of dirty deeds to smirk about. Instead she allowed it low enough for only elven ears to hear.

Elven ears that, in Solas’s case, turned red the more she talked.

 

()()()

 

“No, no, no! I don’t want to, I don’t want to! Let me go!”

Varric didn’t join the gawkers that were undeniably staring.

Sulahn displayed some amazing strength for a petite elven archer, cheerfully walking backwards through the front hall dragging a kicking and screaming young man with her. She had him from behind, slender arms wrapped around his chest in a vice-like grip. Cole tried to get a grip on the floor with his leather shoes, grasping for anything and everything within arm’s reach. It was all-for-naught, however, and he was helpless in the elven woman’s arms.

“Now, Cole, you can str... _uggle_ all you want,” Sulahn said, careful not to hit anyone as she continued her backwards march. Not that she could, as everyone kept a distance so as not to be grabbed by the boy she was dragging along. “You _will_ , however, take your bath.”

“I don’t want to!” the former spirit whined, as if doing so again was going to change her mind. “I don’t like baths! They’re too wet and the soap smells funny!”

“You, my dear, have no right to say _anything_ smells funny.” As the archer approached the entrance to the stairs to her room next to the throne, which she made sure she didn’t go near while carefully traversing the three steps to the landing, she nodded to a guard nearby. He resolutely, and determinedly, was looking at anything but them. “Door, if you’ll please.”

The guard bowed quickly and opened said door for her, quickly scooting out of the way as Cole grabbed onto the doorframe and dug his fingers in. His grip went vice-like and he pulled. Sulahn pulled backwards, tightening her grip on his torso. He now had leverage for his feet as well, however, and dug them into the bottom step. The auburn-haired woman grit her teeth, taking three steps up the stairwell and using that as leverage to pull upwards instead. The change in direction threw the blond young man off and he lost grip with his feet. As soon as his arms snapped taut on the door Sulahn pushed herself forward, using her hunter’s grace to keep her balance as his fingers were tricked into releasing their grip on the door and she quickly started ascending before he could try again.

“Be a dear and guard the door!” the huntress called down to the guard, who bowed again to her. “Don’t open it for anyone but me, got it?” In affirmation, the door closed and she knew he would be standing resolutely at it. After all, she was the Inquisitor. Any order, no matter how strange, was to be carried out in her name.

Dragging a kicking and whining young man twice her size up a flight of stairs to her room was the hard part. She jabbed the door leading into her quarters open with a hip as quickly as she could. She couldn’t let Cole get ahold of anything again before she got him to the top. She knew he’d make one last desperate grab for the banister at the top. She was counting on it.

Sure enough, as soon as they reached the top and he saw the bronze bath in the middle of the room full of soapy, warm water, Cole grasped the last rung of the banister as hard as he could, shaking his head and all but whimpering. “Please,” he whined. “I don’t want to take a bath…”

“Cole, you have dirt caking onto your clothes! You will take this bath!” the elven woman snapped, releasing her grip on him.

Cole started, stumbling nearly down the stairs as he found his pulling was the only leverage anymore. As soon as he reeled himself backwards to avoid a very messy accident, Sulahn grabbed him again to use his own momentum to all but fling him into the tub, clothes and all. He yelped and cried out, flailing and coughing and clawing to climb back out. The Inquisitor grasped his shoulders and pushed him down until he was all but his head in the sudsy water.

“Stop struggling! You’re in the water; the dirt is already coming off just from that! You might as well take your bath like a man!” she huffed, waiting for him to finally admit defeat. She was patient and she could always ask for more hot water from the kitchen if the cold weather from the balcony nearby cooled it too quickly.

After pulling and whining a bit more, Cole finally sagged and ceased fighting. It was as if all the energy was drained from him right there, his wide, sad eyes casting down to the water and shoulders slumping in defeat. He didn’t fight her anymore as she undressed him, flinging the soggy, mismatched clothing into the corner before grabbing a sponge and getting to scrubbing.

She didn’t use a loofah, though she had a very nice one from Orlais that was incredibly gentle on the skin. No, his level of filthy required thicker stuff. She acquired a heavy-duty sponge that was designed for the miners of Orzammar. According to the dwarven merchant who had sold it to her, “This thing could sand the grit off’a chunk’a dragon bone ‘til it was smooth as a nug’s ass.” That sounded about right for the task at hand.

Neither person spoke as she determinedly scrubbed at his arm, holding it up herself, being offered (for once) no help from the boy. He just sat there, looking like a sad, wet Mabari pup. That pout had no effect on her, though, and she continued to carefully make sure of where was actually getting clean and she had to scrub softer.

After she got through both arms and started on his back, she heard the soft sound of bare feet on her stairs. She knew it was Solas before he arrived. He was the only person she knew the guard would have let up. Despite her instructions there was always an underlying implication that Solas was always an exception.

“Oh, good. Can you do me a favor and start scooping the dirty water out of this thing so we can put some clean in there? He’s just bathing in his own filth at this point,” Sulahn asked, pushing harder at a particularly stubborn patch of dirt on Cole’s left shoulder. The boy whined in protest and she gently bopped him on the back of the head. “I don’t want to hear it. If you bathed more than once a month I wouldn’t need to sandpaper the dirt off.” He let out a much lighter whimper, but still didn’t move. He just looked up at Solas for a moment before returning his down-cast gaze to the floor.

“You do realize that if you hadn’t entertained Varric’s ideals about making him human he wouldn’t need to bathe at all,” Solas pointed out. He did, however, roll up his sleeves and knelt next to the tub. He picked up the bucket next to it and scooped it full of murky water. He then took it to the balcony and emptied it over the side before returning and repeating the gesture.

“I don’t want to hear it. We’ve had this talk a million times, and I still don’t regret my decision. Cole deserves to be human after all the work he put into becoming like one. He just has to learn to deal with all the little annoyances that come with it, like actually looking presentable. Josephine is becoming increasingly frustrated at his appearance and behavior around the visiting dignitaries. Well, the ones Cole doesn’t hide himself away from, anyway.”

“Orlesians don’t always tell the whole truth. Antivans tell it but in a different way than they mean,” Cole muttered. “I get very confused when I try to hear their insides and outsides at the same time.”

“I am not arguing with you, I promise,” Solas sighed, emptying the third bucket. He went back for one more, dumping it over and then returning. “I’ve been coming to terms with the fact that while you may not make decisions that I would agree with, you make ones that to you are the correct ones.”

“In other words, you’re starting to realize I’m right, you just don’t want to admit you were wrong,” Sulahn smirked.

“I did _not_ say that,” Solas huffed. He picked up the buckets of hot water sitting in the corner of the store room, far away from the balcony. He carefully dumped each into the tub, taking some pity on the creature inside as he whimpered and shivered at the sensation. “However, I do think that you might be somewhat cruel to Cole. He is not used to having to behave as a human, and thus will not be able to adapt immediately to it.”

“He still needs to be clean,” the archer continued insisting.

The mage made a frustrated sound but stopped arguing. “What do you wish me to do now?” he instead asked.

“Take this,” Sulahn put a bottle in his waiting hand, being careful not to knock the stopper off by accident. “Wash his hair. Use enough that it’s going to penetrate the grime, but not so much that it will run into his eyes. They’re red enough as it is.”

Solas complied, going quiet to concentrate on his task. He poured a bit of the substance into his hand, rubbing it a bit between them and then digging his fingers into Cole’s messy blond locks. He resisted making a face when he felt what she meant by ‘grime’. The former spirit’s hair felt… a bit sticky. And greasy at the same time. That couldn’t be natural. This was one of the reasons he chose to shave his own hair off. So much easier than having to do this periodically. He started kneading, though, and felt Cole’s defeated slump relax into a more comfortable sit. His massaging motions on his scalp were soothing the boy. The elven man couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“See? You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Sulahn teased, leaning over while continuing to get the last bit of dirt off the rogue’s back. She stood up and moved around to the front.

“No, I simply… reacted to his sudden change in posture. I thought it was amusing. What of it?” Solas got defensive.

“Mmhm,” the archer giggled. She sat in front of the tub and reached forward, gently tilting Cole’s head backwards. His owlish eyes blinked at her as she got one of the few good looks at his unusually gaunt face. Solas’s scrubbing pulled his hair up and out of the way, giving her another good look at why she cared so much. She’d seen the kind of look he had about him before. People who were lost, looking for their place in life. Most of them never did find it.

She had a friend like that with her clan, a young elven man who wandered into the clan with nowhere else to go. His own clan had been wiped out by shemlen who accused them of stealing livestock from their farms. It was ridiculous, of course. The Dalish were proficient hunters and didn’t need to resort to thievery to feed themselves and their people. He always seemed like he was trying to belong but didn’t know how. He finally let the need for revenge get the better of him. When they decided to take the long way around the same village where his own clan had been killed, both out of respect for him and wariness that they may still be looking for easy targets, he disappeared. Last they’d heard he had tried to assassinate the man who owned the farm the livestock had disappeared from. He was caught and an ‘example’ was made of him. Dalish clans _always_ took the long ways when they had to pass by that area ever since.

Cole reminded Sulahn of that elven man. Having lost something important, but not knowing what it was or how to get it back. She wanted to make sure he didn’t turn out like that elven man did. He wouldn’t wander off on his own looking for it and end up in over his head.

“Is everything alright?”

“Hmm?” Sulahn looked up at Solas, blinking.

“You were deep in thought,” the elven mage elaborated, dipping his hands in the water to clear them of the solution. Well, more to clean off the mixture of it and whatever he’d just scrubbed out of Cole’s hair. He had to rub them together to actually get most of it off. He could swear he still felt it on his skin, though.

“You look sad,” the young rogue added.

“It’s nothing, just thinking what you’d look like if I never forced you to do this,” the archer teased, taking his face between her soaped-up hands and rubbing. He made a face at her, pouting and wincing at the same time.

“You know you don’t have to keep secrets from me,” Solas offered, picking up a bucket of water. “I’d back up.”

Sulahn did as he asked, letting go and giving splash room. She watched Cole’s face turn from pouty to startled as soon as the bucket was dumped over him. “I think that bucket may have gone somewhat cold,” she giggled.

“Please can we stop now?” the young man whined, shivering.

“No,” Solas answered this time, surprising them both. “I’m not done. That was only to get out the first layer of grime.”

“Ha! I told you he needed this bath!” Sulahn clapped in victory. “Welcome onboard the Clean Cole Wagon!”

“I just don’t want him to have to go through this without being thorough. Perhaps it will last longer that way. And I’ll probably need to do this twice-more before his hair is actually clean,” the mage insisted. He dumped another handful of the cleaning solution into his palm and dug his fingers back into the blond mop before him. At least this time it didn’t feel sticky. Now there was some sort of grit, though. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Mm-hm,” Sulahn grinned in victory, picking up her sponge. She knelt in front of the miserable-looking boy and got to work scrubbing his chest. They hadn’t even gotten to his legs yet.

For the first time since she met him, Cole actually looked bitter. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he finally spoke. “Solas didn’t tell you where I was because of what you said you’d do.”

“Oh?” Sulahn asked absently. She was quite used to his random, cryptic translations of peoples’ emotions and feelings. And she was quite aware of how much Solas loved her. So it wasn’t anything new to her.

“No. He was rather hoping you’d do that thing with your tongue where you-”

Cole was cut off as a now bright-red-faced Solas shoved him under the bathwater. Sulahn looked from the flailing boy under the water up to the elven mage. After a moment he smiled and shrugged sheepishly. Sulahn’s stunned face broke into a smile, then a giggle, and finally a full-on laughing fit.

As Solas let the former spirit break out of the water, coughing and sputtering indignantly, he joined her in laughter. Cole looked from one to the other, confused. He then sighed and leaned against the side of the bath. He didn’t know how he did it, but somehow he’d prolonged his own torturous cleaning. He hoped Solas helping with this wasn’t going to be a new regular thing. Sulahn on her own was bad enough.

Sulahn and Solas together, however, were proving to be a force of nature.


	3. Iron Bull/Elodrin - You Say Jump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Bull tells Elodrin to do something stupid. He gets mad when Elodrin does it, and Elodrin gets mad because Bull is mad. They both feel bad, but they're also both stubborn asses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: The Iron Bull/Elodrin Lavellan  
> Inquisitor: Male Elven Mage  
> Warnings: Mild Sexual Implication, mild language, slash

Elodrin walked to the edge of the waterfall, looking over.  He swallowed, reeling back and breathing hard.  Wow, that was… a lot further than it looked from the bottom.  The bottom where the Bull’s Chargers, including their leader, lined the river watching expectantly.  Why did he agree to this?

 _“It’s just a little initiation test,”_ Bull had said.  _“I know you’re the toughest guy in Thedas despite that pretty face, but the Chargers are a little harder to convince.  All of them had to go through some kind of initiation, though.  Just do what we agree on and they’ll practically make you one of the family.”_

Why did the elven mage have to take it to heart so quickly?  He charmed, manipulated, and magicked his way through being the Inquisitor so far.  Why couldn’t he do that with the Chargers?  What did he have left to prove?  He saved the world more than once.  Ended a civil war.  Killed multiples of dragons, killed a _god_.  What in the name of the rest of them did they want from him?

“We’re waiting!”

That was Rocky.  Making him feel like reinforcing the old stereotype that dwarves and elves hated each other.  That was complete nonsense, of course.  Some of Elodrin’s closest friends were dwarves.  Rocky wasn’t making that list right now, though.

The auburn-haired elf inched back to the edge, looking at them while at the same time not thinking of the fact that he was looking down.  He wasn’t scared of heights, he was rather known for jumping great distances to keep from taking the long way.  Never this high, though.  This was too much.  “Don’t rush me, I’m having an internal crisis!” he yelled down.  It wasn’t as if he could hide it from them anyway.  His fear was clear and plain on his face as he looked at them.

“You don’t have to do this, Boss!” Bull replied.  It was hard to tell what he was thinking, despite the grin on his face.  “No one’s gonna blame you for not going on the insane suicide mission!  Just come back down if you don’t feel up to it!”

Elodrin tried to make a reassuring noise, but it came out a non-committal whimper.  He could have kicked himself, ducking back behind the cliff in embarrassment.  “Come on, Elodrin,” he told himself, running a hand over the Dalish markings adorning his face.  “It’s just a little jump into a river… the water will break your fall…”  His breathing picked up again.  “Or your neck.  Or maybe you’ll just miss and break every bone in your body.”  This wasn’t helping.

He leaned against a tree nearby and looked to the sky.  Why was he doing this?  Did he really care that much what the Chargers thought of him?

No, not really.  He liked them well enough, even if he didn’t spend much time with them.  He sent them out on missions and thanked them for their service.  He liked Krem, though.  The former Tevinter was great to listen to when he had stories to tell.  It was fun to listen to him and Bull argue and tease each other.  From what he could tell all of the Chargers had that kind of relationship.

He never really thought of it before, but maybe Elodrin should start hanging out with Bull and his Chargers.  The more he thought of it, the more they reminded him of his Clan.  He missed Clan Lavellan, though he wouldn’t admit how much to anyone but Bull, Dorian, and Liliana.  Perhaps the mercenaries who practically lived in his tavern would be a nice substitute family.

Mostly he was doing this to prove himself not worthy of them but worthy of Bull.  He knew there were a lot of people who were baffled by and questioned the relationship between the petite elven mage and the giant hulk of a Qunari.  Were the Chargers among them?  Elodrin didn’t actually know, again he didn’t spend time around them.  Krem never said anything, but his circumstances made it hard for him to judge anyone.  Not that Elodrin particularly cared what others thought of their relationship, which was personal business.  He cared what they thought of a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.  Then again, the Chargers were the Iron Bull’s family.  He cared about them, so Elodrin should.

“Don’t do this for you, don’t do this for them,” the mage told himself, taking a deep breath.  “Do this for Bull.  Do this because you love him.”

 

()()()()()

 

“He’s not gonna do it,” Skinner snorted.  “I told you he wouldn’t do it.”

“I still can’t believe you told him we have something as dumb as a ‘Charger’s Initiation’,” Krem said to his boss, voice dripping with disapproval.  “I wouldn’t ask my worst enemies to do something this dangerous just to prove something.”

“Don’t worry about it, Krem,” Bull waved him off.  “I wouldn’t have made it something this stupidly life-threatening unless I knew he wouldn’t do it.  I just want him to know he doesn’t have to prove anything to you guys.”

“Why couldn’t we have just told him that instead of going through this nonsense?” Rocky growled.  “I’m sweatin’ my ass off out here.  I wanna get back to the tavern for some ale and dinner.”

They had found the perfect waterfall to psyche their Inquisitor out with in the Emerald Graves.  One that wasn’t too high nor water so shallow that he’d immediately back out of it.  They wanted him to make it all the way to the top of the cliff before he decided risking his life just to impress a bunch of mercenaries wasn’t worth it.  It was working pretty well, too.  When he’d looked over the cliff at them he had an expression Bull had never seen before.  The Fears and Terrors they faced in the Fade didn’t even bring out such an expression of pure horror as that.

“Just saying it doesn’t have the same effect,” Dalish answered, waving a finger.  “Especially for a Dalish mage.  _Not_ that I know what that’s like.  But if I had to guess, I’d say that being two things the world has been taught to fear and avoid packed into one person makes you think hard about what people think of you.”

“And add being the Inquisitor on top of that,” Bull added.  “He has the pressure of being scrutinized by the entire world, including people he has no idea who they are or why they’re important.  He has to worry about what _everyone_ thinks about him.  When he comes down thinking he failed and you’ll all hate him, it’s gonna make a big impact that you didn’t actually care if he went through with it or not.”

“What if he _does_ it?” Stitches asked.  “I can heal a lot of things, but ‘gooey paste’ isn’t one of them.”

“Don’t worry, he’s not dumb enough to-“

The Qunari mercenary was cut off at the sound of bare feet running across leaves and grass above them.  After a few seconds, the subject of their discussion threw himself off of the waterfall cliff above them.  Eight stunned warriors watched as the lithe elven form flew through the air.  It wasn’t exactly a graceful dive, as his limbs flailed desperately as if realizing how stupid of a mistake he just made as he rapidly descended towards the river below.  As his scream pierced the peaceful forest surrounding them, the Chargers could only watch in awe.

The first to speak before he hit the water was Stitches.  “Holy…”

“…mother…” Dalish continued.

“…of…” Rocky added.

“…Andraste!” Skinner finished the exclamation right before impact.

SPLOO-ASH!

The Chargers cringed and almost felt like they shouldn’t be baring witness as Elodrin hit the river hard, water violently splitting and spreading from under him as if angry that he disturbed its calm, steady flow.

“Kadan!” Bull finally found his voice, jumping in the river as the others continued to stare in disbelief.  He waded as far as his huge height could get him without struggle before swimming the rest of the way to where his elven lover had landed.  Elodrin wasn’t moving, floating on the water like a piece of debris.  Without his armor, which he’d removed for the stunt, he luckily wasn’t being dragged under.  Bull quickly pulled him up and tossed him over his shoulder without a second thought, only worrying about getting him back onto dry land.

When the Qunari reached the embankment Krem, Grim, and Stitches took Elodrin from him, laying him out on the ground.  The others helped pull Bull out, being as he actually _was_ wearing armor and his clothes were now being weighed down by the weight of the water as well.  By the time they dragged him onto dry land the doctor was checking the Inquisitor for breath and pulse.

After a few seconds of pressing his ear to Elodrin’s bare chest he took a breath and let it out in relief.  “Good news, he’s breathing.  Nothing seems to be broken on a preliminary check, either.  I’ll see how he’s doing when he wakes up, but I’m pretty sure a potion and some good thoughts and he’ll be fine.  Miracle and a half that he didn’t get more hurt than he did, but I think the impact with the water just knocked him unconscious.”

“I can’t believe that crazy son of’a bitch actually jumped,” Rocky said.

“Yeah,” Krem agreed angrily, standing up when he was sure Elodrin was in good hands with Stitches.  “He _jumped_.  Funny thing that, huh, _Chief_?”  He jabbed his boss in the chest with a finger for emphasis.

“Don’t you start with me, Krem,” Bull growled.

“You started it when you asked the Inquisitor to _jump off a damned cliff_!”

“Enough, this isn’t the time!” Dalish snapped, getting between them and facing Krem.  Skinner joined her, facing Bull instead.  They both held up their hands, willing to stop them if the argument got physical.

“This is _exactly_ the time!  I can’t believe you let him do that!” the Bull’s second-in-command snapped.  “I can’t believe _I_ sat by and didn’t stop you!”

“No one’s at fault that the crazy bastard jumped,” Skinner said.  “It was his choice, we didn’t put a sword to his throat and make him do it.  Now, can we concentrate on more important matters?”

“Yeah, like who’s going to tell the Inquisitor’s advisors we stood here and watched him almost kill himself?” Rocky grunted.

The Chargers all had the same horrible realization at his words.  Josephine, Cullen, and _especially_ Liliana were going to kill them if they found out about this.  They’d be lucky if it was Cullen.  He’d at least motion for a public execution.  Something quick and controlled.  Josephine might just have them exiled.  Or imprisoned.  Anything that would make an example without projecting a bad light on the Inquisition itself.  Liliana, though?  Oh, they dreaded thinking what she might do if she found out.  Elodrin and her were as close as it was possible with the extremely secretive woman.  They’d never see it coming.  Ghosted away for torture, maybe.  Assassinated in their sleep if she was feeling generous.

Before they could further let their imaginations get away from them the Elven mage let out a light moan.  “He’s waking up!” Stitches called, waving the others over.

Bull pushed past the others to get to his lover.  Bright green eyes opened slowly.  “You with us, Kadan?” he asked, kneeling down as Elodrin let out a cough.

“Yes… I’m good…” the Elven man muttered.  He tried to sit up and cringed.  “Okay, maybe ‘good’ isn’t right, but I’m alive.”

Before the Qunari could respond, Stitches spoke up.  “You’re lucky you didn’t break every bone in your fool body, Inquisitor,” he said in disapproval.

“I can’t believe I actually did that,” Elodrin actually laughed, finally managing to push himself up into a sitting position.  “Of all the crazy things I’ve ever done…”

“I can think of a few better words than ‘crazy’,” Bull muttered.

The Elf’s laughter faded quickly, looking puzzled.  “You… but you’re the one who asked me to do that,” he pointed out in confusion.

“I didn’t think you’d actually _do_ it!” the mercenary snapped.  He knew it wasn’t fair to be angry at Elodrin over this, but he was still feeling the tail-ends of the adrenaline his fear had created when he saw his lover throw himself off a cliff.  “You weren’t _supposed_ to actually do it!”

“What do you mean I ‘wasn’t supposed to’?  Why would you go asking me to do something that stupid if you didn’t want me to?!”

“You were supposed to see _how_ stupid it was and _stop_!  That was the point!”

“That’s… that’s ridiculous!  You told me to do something we both knew was dangerous with the intention of me _not_ doing it?!”

“That’s what I said!” Krem cut in, crossing his arms over his chest.

Elodrin turned his attention on the Charger, having forgotten the others were there.  They were all standing back, looking awkwardly at anything but the arguing couple.  “Wait… you _knew_ about this, Krem?  That I wasn’t… that this was all just some kind of…”  He couldn’t seem to get the words out with how flabbergasted and furious he was feeling at the same time.  He pushed himself to his feet painfully.  He felt like a dragon had hit him at full speed.  Every bone and muscle screamed at him to lie back down and rest.

The former Tevinter flinched, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Look, I wasn’t for this happening.  But you know how the Chief can get when he has an idea.  Nothing can stop him…”

“You could have told me!  If you knew this was all part of some idiotic scheme of his, why didn’t you warn me before I went throwing myself off of a cliff?!”  Elodrin couldn’t stop himself from unleashing his anger in any direction he deemed worthy at this point.

“Hey, don’t yell at him!” Bull grabbed Elodrin by the shoulder and turned him so they were facing each other.  “He didn’t ask you to jump off a maker-damned waterfall!  And I _told him_ not to tell you!  It would have defeated the purpose of my ‘idiotic scheme’ if you knew what was going on!”

“You’re right, he didn’t ask me.  _You did!_ ” Elodrin reminded him again, slapping the hand on his shoulder away.  The fact that the grab had hurt with his sore muscles did nothing but exacerbate his increasing fury.  “All he did… all any of them did was sit here and _watch me_ embarrass myself!”  He shoved the huge Qunari, who was almost three times his own size, out of his way as he marched over to the pack holding his light armor.  His staff sat next to it, which he plucked off the ground and pointed at the Chargers with, causing them to flinch in half-expectance that he would actually incinerate them on the spot.  “I’m going to go dry off and change, and then I’m going home.  You all can do whatever you want except follow me.  I don’t want to see any of your faces for… for I don’t know _how_ long.”

The Chargers watched him go off on his own into the Graves.  They knew better than not trust him to take care of himself.  Despite his size and pretty face, he was the Inquisitor.  Short of a Fade Rift pouring out demons, a dragon, or a giant, they knew he could take care of most anything out there.

“Congratulations, Chief,” Rocky patted the Qunari on his giant, muscular arm.  “You did exactly the opposite of everything you were hoping to achieve today.  Usually takes a paying customer before you achieve that.”

“Not the time or place, Rocky!” Dalish hissed.

“No, he’s right,” Bull deflated as soon as Elodrin was out of sight, covering his face with a hand.  “This whole thing was a cart-wreck.  Krem was right; I never should’ve gone through with this whole thing.  Should’ve known his pride would’ve made him go through with it.”

Skinner snorted.  “You think this was about _pride_?”  Instead of elaborating, she threw her hands in the air.  “You’re hopeless.”

“What?” Bull asked, looking from her to the others.  They all displayed varying levels of disbelief.  From Rocky whose eyebrows shot upwards, Dalish who leaned on her staff sighing, and even Grim who just slapped his forehead.  “ _What?_ ” he repeated, finally looking at Krem.

“Maker, I can’t believe we have to talk about this.  You know what he ‘needs’ in bed, but you don’t know a thing about what he wants outside of it,” his second-in-command groaned, turning and picking his equipment up.  “Come on, Chief.  We’ll trek back to Skyhold and I’ll explain it nice and simple.”

 

()()()()()

 

“Is there a problem, Inquisitor?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, considering you only get this way when you’re upset…”

Elodrin looked up at Dorian, his face painted with sulkiness.

It was five days since he and the Chargers had gone off somewhere.  Five days since he’d returned on his own in a foul mood and no mind to speak to anyone about it.

This night the Tevinter mage had been sitting in his favorite chair in the library, reading a thick book on Orlesian lore.  He was waiting for another book he’d ordered to be delivered and it was the most interesting thing he could find to occupy himself with in the meantime.  The Inquisitor had dragged himself up the stairs looking like someone had dragged his favorite robes through the mud.  He shuffled over to the reading man, who lifted the book in perfect synchronization with Elodrin dropping to his knees in front of him, arms crossed upon Dorian’s thighs and face buried in them.

“I think I may be unfairly angry at Bull,” the Elf sighed, laying his head back down, though turned to the side this time so his voice wouldn’t be muffled.

“I’m not sure how that’s possible.  Being disgusted by that brute is my norm,” Dorian muttered.  He reached down and threaded his fingers into the Elf’s long, auburn strands.  He turned a page in the book he’d set on the side table next to him.  “What did he do this time?”

“It’s… a very long story.  But it ends with me nearly killing myself to impress his crew.”

Dorian snorted.  “What in the world did you do?  They’re a bit of a simple bunch.  Not the hardest to impress.”

“I jumped off a cliff,” Elodrin admitted.

“You do that all of the time.”

“It was probably the size of Skyhold’s main tower.”

“Fasta vass!” Dorian nearly knocked his book off the table at the shock of that statement.  “You jumped off a… you could have been killed!  What were you thinking?!”

“The whole fortress doesn’t need to know it, Dorian!” the Elf hissed at him.  “And I landed in a river.  I’ve been sore ever since, but the healers say I didn’t do any permanent damage.”

“Even so, why in the world would you _ever_ do something so reckless?  That isn’t like you.  You’re usually at least _somewhat_ sensible.  You wouldn’t have gotten as far as you have if you weren’t.”

“Because Iron Bull asked me to,” Elodrin explained, pulling himself to stand up.  He slid into Dorian’s lap, resting his head against the Tevinter’s shoulder.  It was late, so not many people were still in the library.  They knew Liliana was still working on the top floor, as the woman never seemed to sleep.  Otherwise, most of the staff had retired to bed.  Not that Elodrin and Dorian particularly cared what anyone said about their unique relationship.

“He asked you to jump off a cliff?” the human mage asked incredulously.

“Well, he then said I wasn’t actually supposed to jump.  It was some kind of… I don’t know… test, or something.  I suppose I didn’t pass.  The worst part is that all the Chargers knew about it, even Krem.”

“And he didn’t tell you?  I always thought he was at least reasonable,” Dorian said, going back to petting Elodrin’s hair.  The Elf found it soothing when Bull was unavailable for… more pleasurable stress-relief.

“Bull asked him not to.  I don’t have the heart to stay mad at Krem.  He tried to talk Bull out of it, and it’s not his fault we’re both stubborn asses.”

“I suppose that’s why you two work so well,” Dorian sighed.  He couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice, though he tried.  As much time had gone by, and as close as he and Elodrin remained, he was still disappointed that the Elf had chosen Bull over him.  He couldn’t bring himself to be angry at either of them, though.  Even he could see how much they loved each other.

“I know it was foolish of me to jump.  But I can’t forgive him for asking me to do it in the first place.  Or being angry at me for going through with it.  What was he thinking?” Elodrin muttered, closing his eyes and snuggling in.  He really was still sore, it was late, and this was comfortable.

“Maker if I ever figure out what the lug is thinking.  In fact, incinerate me if I actually do start understanding it.  It will mean I’m likely completely insane.”  When the dark-haired man paused and didn’t get a response, he looked down.  Elodrin had fallen asleep.  That suited him just fine, turning his attention back to his book.  Let the Elven mage rest.

The candle on the table hadn’t burned too much shorter before the sound of heavy footsteps announced another visitor.  “You know, if you weren’t such an ass he wouldn’t need to keep seeking out my attention,” the Tevinter said dryly, not even looking up from his page.

“You say that as if it’s any of your business,” Bull growled, coming to a stop in front of them.

“It is when he keeps making it my business.  Also when you ask him to do ridiculous things like jump off cliffs.”  Dorian finally looked up from his book, his frown pinning the Qunari in place.  “What were you thinking, asking Elodrin to do something so thoughtless?  You know he would never say no to you.”

Bull ran a hand over his face, trying to stay angry but instead slumping in defeat.  “I know…” he admitted.

At the sight Dorian softened.  He looked back down at the Elf in his lap and sighed.  He then looped an arm under the Inquisitor’s knees and stood up, facing the giant before him.  “I won’t ask you why you did it, because I have a feeling whatever you say will only make me angrier.  But I will _demand_ that you do your damned job as his lover and take care of him.  Elodrin may not be the delicate creature he looks like, but if you don’t protect him from everything that’s trying to kill him, including his own foolishness, then I will take him from you and do it myself.  Understood?”

The Iron Bull almost didn’t know how to respond, he was so surprised by the declaration.  He knew Dorian loved Elodrin, but he hadn’t actually thought that deeply on the subject.  He recovered from his surprise, though, and set his jaw determinedly.  He wouldn’t be shown up by this… preening, pampered Tevinter mage.  “Don’t worry your pretty head,” he replied, taking the sleeping Elf from him.  “I don’t intend to let anything happen to him.”

“See to it,” Dorian insisted, poking him on the arm.  He sat back down in his seat, picking up his book testily.  This conversation was over.  Not even a ‘goodnight.’

Bull rolled his eyes and carried the sleeping Inquisitor to his own room, laying the Elf on the elegant bed he kept in his quarters.  The Qunari walked around the bed and lay down in it next to Elodrin but didn’t do anything that might wake the mage further than that.

The mercenary hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep.  The next thing he knew he was being awoken by his lover lacing his fingers through his, face nuzzling into the massive muscles of his upper arm.  It was easy for Bull to forget that that Inquisitor was so small at times, but those thin, delicate fingers never failed to remind him.

“I don’t like being mad at you.”

Bull looked down at Elodrin, whose words were muffled in the mass of muscle.  “I don’t like you being mad at me, either,” he admitted in return.

“I mean it,” the elven mage turned his bright green eyes up to him, pushing himself up onto his elbow.  The other hand didn’t let go, though.  “And I still am, you know.  Furious, I mean.  I _humiliated_ myself in front of the people you care about the most.  I did it because you asked me to.”

“I know,” Bull sighed, running his free hand over his own face.  “I fucked up.  I’m sorry, Boss.”

Elodrin’s features softened, finally letting go of the Qunari’s hand.  He crawled up the much larger man, using his left pectoral as a pillow as he lay back down.  He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.  “I’m sorry as well.  You were right, I could have just backed out at any time.  I just…”  The auburn-haired man trailed off, realizing how ridiculous it sounded five days later.

“You just…?”

“The Chargers are so important to you, and I thought… I don’t know exactly what I thought, honestly.  I just wanted to make you happy, and I thought them liking me would do that.”

“They already like you, Boss.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that before I threw myself off a cliff?”

The Iron Bull sighed heavily, slapping his free hand against his forehead.  This conversation wasn’t going anywhere, simply running in circles.  “Look, I’m sorry, okay?  I’m just… I guess I’m used to dealing with mercenaries.  Any of my men, if I asked them to do something that stupid they’d tell me to fuck off.  And that’s what I want from them.  I don’t want any of the Chargers to do something they know is going to get them killed.”

“Was that what I was supposed to do?  Tell you to ‘fuck off’?”  There was an edge of humor behind the words.  It was a good step forward.

“I’d expect it in somewhat more elegant words from you, Kadan.”

Elodrin chuckled, lifting his head so he could look at the former Qunari.  “Is that what you want from me, then?  Elegance?”

“No, I think that’s what Josephine wants.  I’d prefer you just be… you know… Elodrin,” Bull answered, pushing a stray lock of auburn hair from the elven man’s eyes.  “Honestly, it’s what the Chargers want, too.  And even if it wasn’t, then fuck ‘em.  You don’t have to please everyone.”

Elodrin tilted his head thoughtfully, looking at a place on the wall behind Bull’s head.  After a minute of contemplation, he finally said, “I’m trying to remember the last time anyone told me such a thing.  I seem to be drawing a blank.  In my clan it was ‘master everything I instruct to you and stay out of trouble.’  With the Inquisition it’s ‘piss off as few powers as possible while making near impossible decisions no one would ever expect of an elf, let alone a mage, if it weren’t for your extremely specific circumstances.’  No one has ever told me not to try and please anyone before.”

“You don’t.  I mean, I know it’s part of your job here and all, but if we’re talking strictly non-business related, then yeah, fuck ‘em,” the Qunari reiterated.  “If there’s a person out there that can’t see that you’re the most fantastic person in Thedas, then they don’t deserve your time.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Is it working?”

Elodrin laughed, pushing himself so he straddled his lover, smiling impishly.  “I don’t know, I’m considering staying mad at you for a lot longer.”

“Hey now, Kadan, you said you don’t like being mad at me,” Bull said, chuckling.

“Well, there is one way to help me get over it,” the elf said, voice low and seductive as he leaned forward.  He pressed a kiss to the Qunari’s lips, moaning softly as he felt massive arms cocoon him protectively, pinning him in place.  When he broke the kiss, grinning lopsided, he added, “There is _one_ person I wish to please whenever I can.”

Bull’s grin widened as he let Elodrin go, sliding him back onto the bed.  “In that case, give me a moment.  I need to find some rope.”


End file.
